Something Borrowed
by attica
Summary: He loves her, he'd declared. To the sleeping critters of Central Park, to the silent ears of the watching universe. And then, an escaped tangent of insecurity, an afterthought that broke her already stuttering heart – "For what it's worth." Newtina. Companion fic to Something Blue. Complete!


Something Borrowed

 **A/N:** This is a companion piece in Tina's POV to my other Newtina fic, Something Blue. It doesn't exactly add anything to the plot (aside from the expected additional feels), but I do rec reading that first before this one.

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There, deep within the concrete trenches of the sleepless jungle of New York City, is one Porpentina Esther Goldstein, young American Auror, still managing to stand upright despite very little sleep.

As the eldest Goldstein, she's considered chronic worrying her natural birthright - which usually did not lend well to her sleeping habits - but lately sleep has been more elusive than usual. As of two days ago, in fact, with the arrival of a certain blue-coated magizoologist.

Not wanting to wake Queenie with her turbulent emotions, she had returned to Central Park, Newt's letters in her hand. Tina leans over the bridge, thinking deeply, wiping her tears as she watches the sun slowly rise. She watches the ducks and thinks of Newt, then of Charles, then of Newt back again.

Newt Scamander, with his wild hair, crooked smile, oddly charming habit of avoiding direct eye contact until the moment of most impact, and his _oh-so_ -inconvenient timing. Newt Scamander with his case full of animals he loves without fanfare, without condition. Newt Scamander whom Tina has loved even without much prodding from the universe, who has finally revealed to her that he loves her back.

Tina has reread his letter three times now, and each time has felt like someone gutting her own heart right in front of her. It is a letter in snapshots, written over time - his mad, urgent scribble, like a dying man's confession before the final fading of the light.

 _These are all of the things I wish I could say to you, Tina Goldstein of New York, that I have not the bravery to write and send off. Please forgive the clumsiness. This is the first time in a long time I've had to navigate the balance between violent affection and polite civility._

Some he'd written in the early dawn of morning. Some in the middle of night under little to no sleep. But others are written with the same wide-eyed clarity she's seen of him, with the same steady hands with which he cradles his creatures. And others - others more shaky, written in one trembling breath, so vivid with longing it nearly blinds her just to read.

Tina used to wonder how - after the look they had shared on the docks - Newt could write so… _platonically_ to her. She used to pour herself over his letters for days, trying to read between the lines, as if she tried hard enough, she might be able to decipher the code and find his confession of love to her, entrenched securely between innocent descriptions of his days. This had kept her going for months; after all, Tina had not become an Auror to blanch at a challenge. But after months of finding little to encourage her, she had eased up on her efforts as a willful practice of self-mercy. The disappointment had become too bitter, the hope too great to end nearly as well as she prayed.

Now she knows why. Newt Scamander did not swallow his affection; he just bled it out in secret.

 _It's Spring now. I long to visit you in New York in Spring. I'd like to see you in the midst of all the radiant bloom. Here I must preface - I'm not a hateful person, let alone one inclined to feel negatively towards those I have never met. But to think of all the men in your city that squander the opportunity - to catch your smile against the flash of sky rise windows, or your laugh traveling past the incessant whirr of construction. I don't know these men, but I envy them. Even if just to catch your eye on the street, or innocently brush your shoulder when we pass. Such tiny miracles to keep a man hoping, and alight._

 _It's unfair,_ Tina thinks to herself. It's unfair how quickly and seamlessly her pragmatic heart relinquishes itself back to Newt Scamander with his curious eyes and earth-roughened hands, even after an ocean between them, even after so long.

He loves her, he'd declared. To the sleeping critters of Central Park, to the silent ears of the watching universe. And then, an escaped tangent of insecurity, an afterthought that broke her already stuttering heart – " _For what it's worth."_

ooo

Tina hears his footsteps before he steps into the edge of her peripheral, his strong figure leaning over the bridge right next to her.

"Queenie said I'd find you here," comes the warm, whiskey tones of Charles Magnolia.

Tina keeps her swollen eyes ahead and swallows hard, counting the ripples in the water. For hours she has planted herself here, thinking about what to say to him at this very moment. Instead, the words shift back and forth against her throat, refusing to settle.

Here she is, on the morning of her wedding day, with her fiancé. They are both skilled Aurors, more capable than most at foresight, and she feels it sink between them, heavy and inevitable. An ending.

"I'm sorry," she finally whispers. It doesn't feel like enough, though. As weighty as they are, they still feel too light, too wanting. _I'm sorry for loving somebody else. I'm sorry for bringing you into this._

Charles nods solemnly, his hands hanging over the thick stone railing, fingers entwined. His voice is low and deep, stark against the gray hush of the morning.

"I know you are. To tell you the truth, I can't say I'm surprised. I knew the moment he walked in." He pauses, hesitating. His chuckles are shallow, dull with sadness. "I think I always knew, but I hoped... what everybody hopes, I guess. That you'd choose me."

Tina shuts her eyes, feeling a tear roll down her cheek. "I _want_ to choose you."

"The problem is - I think your heart chose for you a long time ago," Charles says. "You know, I even felt sorry for the poor guy. I'm no Queenie, but – Newt's not very good at hiding his feelings. I could tell he was in pain, seeing you with me."

She shakes her head. "How can you be so kind to me after—" _What I've done. What I'm about to do._

"Because I know you, Tina," he says, quietly. "I know you'd choose me if you had to. And I know that what we had was real, too, in a way. I think that even if we got married today, we could have a perfectly fine life together."

Tina can see this. She and Charles always got along well. They were both good, decent people with similar desires in life. Charles made sense. He fit into the life she had always pictured for herself – gray suit, black coffee, too many hours spent at the office. He would forgive her shortcomings. She would love their children.

 _A perfectly fine life_ , Tina repeats to herself.

It's as if Charles reads her mind. He exhales inaudibly, his posture shrinking in defeat. He smiles at her anyway, and it's a sad smile, one that her heart mirrors back. "But I think you and I both know we deserve more than that."

ooo

 _It's a futile wish I have, sometimes, when I think about New York. With everything that's happened, there are better things to wish for. A wish for Credence to have had a better life. A wish for Grindelwald to have never had the chance to step foot into the city. A wish for Queenie to be able to be with Jacob. But the wish I find myself lingering on the most is… I wish we'd had more time._

Tina gets used to the whispers and looks from her fellow Aurors. Charles has kept quiet about the matter, but that has not quelled the rumors from circulating regarding their called-off wedding. Thankfully, since her life had never been very riveting to her coworkers in the first place, the most salacious rumors involved the prestigious Southern Madam Mrs. Magnolia not approving of plain-faced, lackluster Tina – which could have very well been true.

Still, after a few weeks, the gossip mill moves on to a more compelling tale of mutual destruction through sordid love affairs, and Tina is free to disappear into her work, back into invisibility.

She and Charles keep a safe distance from each other, not seeing each other unless absolutely necessary. Every now and then, she'll manage to accidentally catch his gaze, and the hurt – no matter how heroically veiled – still lingers there, in his dark eyes and the clench of his jaw. So Tina tries to make herself as scarce as possible, following leads outside of the office when she can. It is the kind thing to do.

She's surprised one afternoon when Charles calls her into his office. She steps in, hesitant, and the door closes behind her. He advises her to take a seat, which she does.

He slides a packet of paper in front of her, and she looks up at him with confusion.

"We just got a memo today from overseas. The Ministry of Magic's having a hard time recruiting Aurors after the mishap with the giants. Left them pretty short-handed. They've opened up transfer slots." Charles gestures to what's in front of her. "There's the application."

Tina's eyes widen. "Charles, I couldn't possibly-"

"Listen, Tina," Charles says lowly, and Tina takes in his tired eyes, "you broke off our wedding for this guy. I'm assuming he doesn't know, otherwise he would have been on the next steamship back, weeks ago. And you are – stuck, I think. Afraid. Not a great trait for an Auror trying to get her name out here in MACUSA." His expression morphs into one of soft pity, and Tina has to look away. She can tell Charles is being kind by telling her exactly what she needs to hear to be able to leave. He knows Tina is too reasonable to ever voluntarily leave her job on the off chance that she might fulfill her romantic desires with a magizoologist an entire continent away.

"We're full up here, and Picquery's mentioned likely cutbacks to the department soon, based on seniority. I've already cleared your transfer with her. She agreed that it would be a good idea. If anything, you can be our man on the inside. Give us a heads up if you catch a whiff of things going South. Deliverance knows Sasha spends more time reading those British gossip magazines than doing her job."

She stares at the application in front of her. Slowly, it starts to fill in. Her picture appears, her brow too serious, her lips pursed.

Charles gives her a firm look, a flicker of a small smile. "You have until the end of the day, Goldstein."

ooo

Unsurprisingly, Tina comes home to find her suitcase already by the bedroom door, with Queenie's face full of expectation.

"Queenie, you know that they still have to approve everything on their side, and I haven't even gotten a start date yet—"

"I know that," Queenie says lightly. "This was more symbolic. Me putting my foot down. Although I am a little peeved that Charles would get all the credit for doing something this wily – I'd have done the same thing, too, if I'd had the same authority as him."

Tina picks up the suitcase and throws it on her bed, out of sight. The concept of leaving New York petrifies her, and she wrings her fingers, pacing in their kitchen.

"You should write to him. Let him know," Queenie suggests.

 _I don't want him to feel obligated._ Tina watches as her thought registers in Queenie's mind, and her sister scoffs. Instead, Tina says, worriedly, "What if he's changed his mind?"

"Oh honey. Newt Scamander ain't the kind of wizard to say things he doesn't mean."

"Well. I don't want to leave you." The thought of being without Queenie pulls a shadow of anxiety over Tina's thoughts. _Turning in my application was a mistake._

"It won't be," Queenie says, reassuringly. "We've been together since we were just girls, Teen. You practically raised me. I know what you've sacrificed for me. This is yours. You deserve this. I refuse to be the reason you won't go after Newt." Her lovely face is stern and full of confidence. "Don't you worry about me. I know how to take care of myself - I'll be fine."

Tears prick Tina's eyes. She feels the sudden urge to run to Queenie and fling her arms around her, but instead she stays still, trying so hard to be the adult. _Good old Tina Goldstein_. "If it doesn't work out-"

"Then you'll be back," she finished, firmly. "You'll always have a place here. But trust me, Teenie. Newt's no fool. He won't let you slip through his fingers again."

ooo

Tina arrives in England three weeks after submitting her application to Charles. The Ministry was so desperate for more Aurors that they had expedited her background check and clearance, and had to be convinced to begrudgingly allow her one more week in New York to spend some time with Queenie and wrap up her case at MACUSA. During this time, despite Queenie's persistent encouragement, Tina does not write to Newt to let him know her sudden change in location. She starts many letters to him – all of which eventually end up shredded, though not for lack of effort.

Weeks ago, after calling off her wedding, Tina had ended up at the docks with a ticket to board a steamship to England. She'd gotten halfway up to the ship when she'd stopped, paralyzed by – fear, uncertainty, all of the above. Tina Goldstein was no good with grand gestures, especially when she'd been so raw after the collapse of her engagement. So she'd returned to her New York apartment with Queenie, needing comfort in the familiar, if just for a little while longer.

The truth is, Tina is afraid. She's afraid that Newt will see her differently under the cold English sun. That without the exotic hum of New York wafting around his ears, or the gallant, towering buildings behind her – that she should seem so ordinary to him now, not quite as fantastic. Perhaps, just like his first visit to New York, his last visit might have changed him, and for good reason.

So Tina immerses herself in getting her feet wet at the Ministry, desperate for a distraction. She needs the extra confidence in order to work herself up to doing _the other thing_. Confronting the man she loves. Telling him she had called off the wedding and crossed the Atlantic to be with him. For whatever that's worth.

ooo

Tina's first assignment is to shadow one of the other Aurors, Sedgewick McLagan, with his current case. He walks around with a twitchy look, grumbling under his breath at everything that crosses his path. He is not keen on Tina, but Tina does not take this personally, as she soon realizes he isn't keen on anybody else in their department, either. He gives Tina his towering stack of case files and gives her the task of reorganizing them and sending a copy down to the archives.

As she walks to her desk, she notices Theseus Scamander out of his office, chatting up a few of the other Aurors. Theseus had been the one to meet Tina at the docks – her official welcome to the Ministry, and to the sodden climate of Great Britain. He'd been pleasant enough – friendly yet gruff, professional yet lighthearted. He even reminded her a bit of Charles. He shared the same shade of hair as Newt, as well as the eyes, but the physical similarities ended there. Theseus had the strong, wide build of a natural warrior, and the charisma to command a room. Newt, while quite athletically built from his travels, preferred to disappear in a room, rather than command it.

There, in the space between the stark difference and the faint echoes of likeness between the Scamander brothers, Tina misses Newt terribly. Theseus had only briefly mentioned Newt to her in passing, with regards to the Obscurial in New York – but other than that, there had been nothing to indicate to her that Newt had confided in him about the more complicated facets of their relationship. Tina finds herself both relieved and disappointed by this, despite knowing Newt's rigid proclivity towards privacy.

Tina drops the files with a _thunk_ on her desk, hearing the laughter from the group Theseus is entertaining. The Auror beside her – Maggie Moltshew – sends her a pitying look. "It'll get better," she reassures her. "Sedgewick always does this to the new people. Give him two weeks. He'll warm up to you. He may not seem like it now, but he's one of our best Aurors."

She sighs to herself, thanking her desk neighbor, before she charms the files to organize themselves, papers coming loose and energetically flitting around her. It is through the rustling of papers in mid-air that she catches a flash of a familiar shade of blue. Tina tenses.

She peeks above the shuffling papers. The blue makes its way over in Theseus's direction. Her heartbeat quickens, nearly ricocheting out of her chest.

She watches as Theseus turns around and greets his brother with loud brotherly affection. Tina straightens herself up and, still unseen, allows herself to watch Newt. His hair is a touch longer, the faint texture of stubble recognizable around his jaw. He looks tired and just slightly disheveled, and she feels it, a weakening in her knees – _longing_. Her mind flashes back to that night, back in Central Park, his arms tightly around her in precisely the way she had always dreamed. _Please don't marry him._

Tina steps out from behind her desk, coming around the magical whirl of papers from the case files. She wipes her clammy palms against the fabric of her wool trousers.

 _Hi. Hello. Hello again, Newt._

 _How funny to run into you again, Newt. Here, out of all places!_

 _I still love you. Please tell me you still love me back._

Tina is about five steps away when Theseus looks up past Newt's head and spots her, and she freezes.

"…Let me introduce you to our newest Auror. Came all the way from America – highly recommended from Picquery. When the news got out in the press about all the bloodshed from the giant rebellion, it scared away a lot of the new recruits, so. Luckily for the Ministry, news travels slower when it has to cross the Atlantic Ocean."

He motions for Tina to come closer, and she hesitantly erases the distance between her and Newt's back. When she stops, she can feel her pulse all the way down to her heels, nearly lifting her off of the ground.

When Newt turns around, there is an unsuppressed grimace of displeasure – until his face transforms quickly to one of shock. His green eyes glaze over.

Theseus's voice travels over their heads. "This is Miss Porpentina—?"

Tina holds out her hand, praying he doesn't catch its tremble. She smiles widely.

"Goldstein," she says.

For a second, Newt looks as if he's stopped breathing completely. It takes a second, but he finally takes her hand. He does not shake it – he just grips it tightly, firmly. As if he's making sure she's real.

Newt's eyes regain their clarity, and he searches her face, biting back a trickle of hope. "Goldstein?" he repeats, his voice husky, just a decibel above a breath.

Tina smiles at him until it's contagious.

ooo

Newt is patiently waiting for Tina on the front steps of the Ministry when she exits the building for the day. As soon as she sees him, she slows in her step, wanting to memorize the sight of him, her excitement and nervousness bubbling up inside of her. _What a funny little journey it's been_ , she thinks to herself, smiling. And now, here she is, at the precipice of her future happiness.

She approaches him, and out of politeness, they exchange niceties. He asks her how her day was, and she asks him the same. She can sense the muted impatience in his voice. She can tell there are a million questions he wants to ask her. But for now they are all flushed cheeks and fidgeting hands, dreamy eyes and tender, half-bitten smiles. Tina feels foolish at the emotions that come over her – they swathe her with the candy-coated intensity of an adolescent crush – because she is a _grown_ _woman_ , a proper Auror with years under her belt, who has come all this way to be with the man she loves.

Tina Goldstein and grand gestures. Perhaps she might have actually done this right. Not without help, of course.

"I heard from my brother that you've been at the Ministry for two weeks now," he tells her, glancing down at his shoes.

"Yes. I'm sorry I didn't tell you that I was coming," she says, biting her lip. She has her hands in her coat pockets, a self-inflicted safety measure to keep herself from grabbing his collar and kissing the daylights out of him in front of his older brother's building of employment. "I planned to – eventually. I just wanted to get settled in, first."

Newt nods, his eyes soft and earnest. He swallows hard. "Tina, you must know – if I'd known about the wedding, surely I'd have—"

"I know," she says, quietly. She casts her eyes down, heavy with shame. "But it all seemed… too good to be true, to happen a second time."

He furrows his brow at her. " _Too good to be true_?" He begins to laugh to himself, and Tina feels something warm unraveling from inside as she realizes Newt's laugh is one of her favorite sounds in the entire world. "Tina, I would – I would go to the ends of the earth for you. But instead you came here, to England." His laughter fades and his expression intensifies, dark with something that invisibly clutches her by her navel, and makes her gravitate closer to him. The look in his eyes is part awe, part tenderness. It makes her shiver. "I'm afraid you've got it all terribly mixed up. _You're_ the one who's too good to be true."

Tina laughs, tears suddenly clouding her eyes, and he reaches up and cups her cheek. Gently. Steadily. She wants to drink up the way he looks at her. Like she is something to marvel at and behold.

"I thought I'd lost you. That I'd done a foolish thing, going over there and asking you not to marry him. Worse - that I'd ruined our friendship for good."

"We New Yorkers are a hardy people," Tina teases. "It'd take a lot more than that to get rid of me, Mr. Scamander."

She's tempted to bring up her stubborn pursuit of him during his first visit, but she doesn't. They have come so far from that now. What had just been an inkling then – a slowly burgeoning epiphany – is now fully-realized. Here, now, they are older– wiser – and much too aware of the coldness of the world without each other.

"I can't believe you're actually here. Please, tell me this isn't a dream," he murmurs, and her heart is so full that it feels on the brink of bursting with joy. "Tell me that I won't wake up to discover that this isn't all just a cruel dream."

Smiling, Tina leans in and kisses him, then – softly, at first, then more urgently as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her in closer. Tina Goldstein has broken her rule about kissing Newt Scamander in front of his brother's – and her boss's – current place of employment, but she is pleased to discover that none of this seems to matter to neither her nor Newt.

He pulls back slightly, out of breath, grinning from ear to ear. "Welcome to England, Miss Goldstein."

As if on cue, Tina feels a droplet of water splash onto her cheek. Suddenly, the heavy, dark clouds open up above them to douse them in an unforgiving cascade of rain. Tina is instantly drenched, shrieking happily, and a laughing Newt pulls his blue coat over her, leaning back in for another kiss.

ooo

 _Dear Mr. Newt Scamander,_

 _I'm not sure if this will reach you in time. Our MACUSA owls have a tendency to become disheartened and lose their way traveling through the miserable England weather. I am writing because Tina Goldstein will be joining your brother Theseus's team at the Ministry. She should have already arrived._

 _If I know her as well as I think I do, she will not have told you. I am writing to let you know, as I imagine you would appreciate the information, in order to plan accordingly._

 _One more thing. I have enclosed a picture of my nephew, Obadiah, with his signed copy of your book. He has asked my sister – his mother – to sew him a blue coat just like yours. He has asked me for a bowtruckle for Christmas. I may write to you again in a few months inquiring where one might get a decent bowtruckle here in New York._

 _I hope you and Tina find happiness._

 _Charles Magnolia_

 _Chief Auror_

 _MACUSA Investigative Team_

 _P.S. Quit being an idiot. Just marry her already._

 _Fin_

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